


on the edge of hope (we face the monsters at our door)

by abbyarcaine



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: (Light angst tho), Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Angst, F/F, Workplace AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-25 05:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17719139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyarcaine/pseuds/abbyarcaine
Summary: Stacie freezes and follows the woman’s gaze up to the towering Jaeger, standing in the deepest corner of the Shatterdome. The woman stands with her hands clasped behind her straight-as-a-rod back. She stands with a trained rigidity, drawn upright as if there were strings attached to her shoulders. She’s dressed in one of the PPDC jumpsuits, but the jacket she’s wearing is unfamiliar, with pins and medals glittering and a name plate she can’t read. Must be military, Stacie muses. Intrigued, she moves from under the Jaeger and walks towards her."She's beautiful isn't she?" Stacie calls out. The woman stiffens but doesn't respond, her gaze still on the Jaeger, and she hums noncommittally. "Built her myself y'know?" Stacie continues, "Any ideas on who’s piloting her?"





	on the edge of hope (we face the monsters at our door)

The Shatterdome feels familiar, like an old friend reaching out through faded memories. Through the window she can see the massive bay opening, inside she sees the familiar silhouette of the Jaegers. They bring back the happiness of her earlier days, riding her way to breaking her father’s record. Aubrey’s never been to Hong Kong before, the one shatterdome she was never assigned to, but being back on a base feels like coming home.

A homecoming.

That’s what her father had alluded to, a victory ride to the end. How poetic. General Posen’s prodigal daughter back to win the war. A war the Jaeger program won’t be finishing, Aubrey thought to herself, as she watched engineers wheel their metal scraps.

While her view from the helicopter isn’t quite clear, the Hong Kong Shatterdome looked like what she had seen of the Jaeger program: crippled. It was chaotic to say the least, with people running frantically across the helipad, loading and unloading metal scraps and kaiju remains.

“What the hell happened?” She voices aloud. Static echoes through her headset and she tears her gaze from out the window to her father.

Her father, a man she had once idolized, levels his gaze on her. Aubrey can't tell what's running through his mind, even after ten years. The last days of battle, with the dregs of the Jaeger Program buckling under the weight of the Coastal Wall. It had taken definitely its toll.

General Posen didn’t look like General. His face was gaunt, tired, with salt and pepper hair and bags under his eyes. So unlike the shining and proud hero she had grown up knowing. Regret stung the back of her mind but she shrugged it off. No regrets. Not after everything.

“You’ll be briefed inside, Ranger.” He turns to face the window as the helicopter stalled, beginning it’s descent. “We’re here.

* * *

 The hallways of the base are made up of steel walls and concrete floors. Aubrey walks them like her childhood home, the memories faded but tugging at her mind with each step forward. The sharp echoing of boots snapping against metal and the barking orders of Rangers are cold, but it brings back a sense of belonging. It reminds her that Hong Kong isn’t Virginia. 

She has a place here. Virginia never wanted her. The very first day she walked into the Southeastern Shatterdome as a new recruit, stepping in to fill her father’s shoes, Aubrey had known she would never belong. But now Hong Kong is her place, her home until the world ends.

She thinks back to her first weeks as a cadet, fresh faced and eager at the chance to prove herself. Watchful of her father and the experienced pilots. For years, Aubrey had always known the Jaeger program was her future. She had grown up watching her father in the news, leading the fight and pioneering a once-questionable field. Becoming a pilot of the Jaeger program he spearheaded wasn’t even a question.

When the stars had aligned with her acceptance into the academy, she had been thrilled. Finally, to have a change to work with her father. They called him a legend. Twenty-nine drops. Twenty-nine kills. The oldest pilots in the books. Aubrey had been a shoe in for beating that record with her best friend at her side. But that legacy. Tarnished and thrown away. All in the past now. 

“Ranger,” Lieutenant Mitchell interrupts her thoughts. Aubrey straightens in attention, clasping her hands behind her back.  “Here are your quarters, training in the Combat Room at oh-eight-hundred. Get some sleep.” He gives her a knowing look and she nods her thanks before climbing the steps to the door. She turns and watches as he takes his leave, his steps fading on the metal floors. Wrenching the door open, Aubrey sets her bags down and begins unpacking.

On the desk, against the wall, are pairs of the monotonous jumpsuits, navy this time instead of the old military green. She riffles through the drawers, putting away the few belongings from Alaska—shirts, hiking boots, and toiletries—and finds a new manual. The ones they give to new recruits.

Donning the issued jumpsuit, she surveys the room with the manual in her hands. The walls are empty, too empty, and before she can regret it, Aubrey pulls out the worn pictures and fastens them to the wall. Sentimentality is the last thing she needs, but something has to keep her humanity intact. And if staring at a picture of her old team and the old smiles they wore is the only thing keeping her grounded, well... Aubrey swallows down the guilt and cracks open the manual. 

* * *

Going over intelligence, logistics, and strategy coursework is routine, even for all returning pilots. As the daughter of the Marshal, Aubrey had prior access to it in her earlier days and it helped in getting her on the fast track to becoming an officer. Aubrey doesn’t mind doing the work all over again. It gives her something to do instead of stewing over memories.

Aubrey hasn’t met any of the other pilots, but she knows, they’re a lot younger than her. A lot less experienced, but youth and vitality has some advantage when taking on the burden of giant robot. Maybe she doesn’t count as old. Or maybe they think she’s a legend.

Sighing, Aubrey shrugs off the thought and glances at the clock across her bunk. Six. Too early for breakfast but too late for sleep. Just great. Aubrey stands from her desk and stretches, reaching for her jumpsuit and jacket before heading out her bunk.

She’s not wandering aimlessly, it's more of a scenic stroll.

The Hong Kong Shatterdome is staggering in its massiveness, even more so in the early hours of the morning. Every time she walks through the double doors, she pauses. The dome’s ceiling reaches hundreds of feet above to accommodate the once dozen functional Jaegers, all combat-ready. Once a hub and capital of the Jaeger Program, deploying over ten Jaegers and receiving decommissioned Jaegers from all over the world, now reduced to rubble and ash—the Pan Pacific Defense Corps last act of defiance before the end of the world.

Seeing the lineup of four Jaegers makes everything so small. Nothing fits the way it's supposed to. The Jaegers look small. Inconsequential. It’s a garage and a museum and a scrap yard and a cemetery all at once and the absolute silence only adds to the emptiness. 

In the background, Aubrey can hear the rhythmic tick of the war clock. The numbers that had ticked down the days to her death. Every drop and every single kill, all stuck in that Conn-Pod. She walks towards the Jaegers, ignoring the ticking and the anxiety building over for when that clock will reset.

She passes Typhoon Menace, tall and strong in all of her undefeated glory. It reminds her of one of the old Mark I Jaegers, the ones unsafe to handle even now. The design looks like a toy, aligned with the original thoughts of that scientist, but otherwise, it casts innocence. All those lives lost. All the children unaware. She moves on.

Her father’s old Jaeger. Well, parts of it. While Nova General bears the same name, the Jaeger itself is nothing but a pale imitation of the original Mark I design. She no longer feels the reverence she’d felt when seeing it in person for the first time. And here, it lies unfinished, waiting for scraps that she hopes never arrive. All it will ever be is an empty casket, waiting to claim the lives of the next would be “Generals”.  Aubrey can’t even fathom the idea of stepping in it again, dying in that Jaeger.

She strides down the central walkway of the vast room, coming to the end of the bay, in the deepest corner where her Jaeger stands. With no milling engineers or cadets littering the space, she can take it all in. It looks like Gipsy Danger, but it doesn’t. It’s much more whole since the last time she saw it, with the Conn-Pod intact and a newer face. The entire body looks sleeker, like it can cut through waves in a single bound. It doesn’t present the same clunkiness the first design had—metal, hastily spray painted navy just hours before her first drop. This new Jaeger stirs a confidence in her and for the first time since setting foot in the Shatterdome, Aubrey feels ready to take on a kaiju.

 


End file.
